


Pretend to be nice

by lorenzobane



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bottom Harry Potter, Developing Relationship, Draco Malfoy is Bad at Feelings, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Like PURE fluff, M/M, POV Draco Malfoy, Parties, Top Draco Malfoy, an extremely tender sex scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:27:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29268714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lorenzobane/pseuds/lorenzobane
Summary: “You look nice,” Potter had said, with a smile.“Well,” Draco said, glancing at Potter’s well-fitting, cream-colored shirt and dark jeans that made him look edible. “I suppose, next to you, just about anything would. I hope that you got that shirt at half price.”Or: Draco really likes Harry, so obviously, he has to act like he hates him
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley (past)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 294





	Pretend to be nice

Draco isn’t sure why he decided to come to this stupid party. Well, he does know. Potter asked him to come, with those stupidly green eyes that sometimes seem half the size of his bloody face. He had even pouted, with those thick lips which regularly drive Draco to madness.

It was a war hero party. Potter probably wouldn’t describe it that way; he would describe it as a group of his friends. But just looking around, he can tell this is a war hero party, and it’s big. Draco never took Potter as the type to want to host, but apparently, Potter is. Potter loves hosting large gatherings for his friends and loved ones; he caters fancy food and hires a bartender. He lets Lee Jordan pick the music, and everyone has a beautiful time. 

They try to be kind to him. Draco sees their effort; it’s just that they talk about their experiences or their work when they’re together. Nearly all of them have gone into the highest rungs of society, the perks of victory, and almost all of them occasionally mention the war. Sometimes just in passing--

“When I was on the run,” Dean Thomas, a man Draco barely knows and certainly didn’t think he had been forced to spend a year on the run, “we met these _incredibly_ strange centaurs, and--”

“What made them strange?” Cho Chang, a former Ravenclaw if Draco isn’t mistaken, “I mean, aren’t all centaurs a bit… Different from humans.” 

“See!” Seamus Finnigan replies, “that is what I said! But Dean insists--”

“Well, they were strange,” Dean says dryly, “because they wanted to have an orgy.” 

The small circle chatting is quiet for a second before it erupts into laughter. Cho Chang cackles as she brings her drink to her lips. Draco finds this, somehow, the most challenging. When they’re not discussing pain, or trauma, or anything terrible, but instead the day to day life of a person on the run. They have these funny stories, and they’re okay to tell because, ultimately, they were on the right side.

He supposes he could try to discuss the time his aunt, Bellatrix, came down in fuzzy slippers and curlers in her hair while the Dark Lord was about to begin torturing an informant. It had been absurd, and Draco still sometimes laughs at the strange, awkward energy that moment created. 

He doubts they would find it funny, though. 

Draco laughs with the others and says something about getting another drink. He hadn’t seen Potter in at least a half-hour when he disappeared with Granger to the kitchen. He crept up and heard Potter’s unmistakable voice.

“I just don’t know,” Potter says; he sounds lost. “I don’t think Draco likes me, like at all. He has never said a single good thing about me; all he does is insult me. But then, he comes when I invite him to things. He… I mean, we still--” 

“Harry,” Granger’s voice is soft, “I don’t think sex inherently means he likes you.” 

Potter is silent for a second, “well, yes. But I think it means he… I mean, it must mean something, right? If it was just sex, why not find someone else? Why me?” 

He hears the rustle of fabric, and he peers carefully around the corner to see that Granger has moved to embrace Potter. “If he doesn’t absolutely adore you, he’s an idiot, Harry. Maybe it’s some weird pureblood repression.” 

This startles a clearly reluctant chuckle out of Potter, who hugs her back and straightens his spine. “I think we better get back. Soon enough, Ron is going to rev up the karaoke machine, and I need to see that shit show again.” 

Draco speeds down the hall as he hears them walk out of the kitchen towards the bathroom in the back of Potter’s apartment. It’s a penthouse with large floor to ceiling windows in the center of the city, London’s glittering lights laid out below Potter. Draco, personally, finds it somewhat terrifyingly modern- far away from his ancient grounds. 

He remembers asking Potter, snidely, why he had moved to the top of the world. 

Potter had laughed at that description and smiled, “I like seeing life around me. All of the lights, all of the people… Maybe when I settle down, I’ll move out of the city. But for now, I like the noise and chaos. It makes me feel less alone.” 

Draco didn’t ask anything else. He should have. He leans back against the bathroom’s white-painted door, and the strained warblings of Ron Weasley start to seep through the apartment. 

Potter thinks Draco doesn’t like him. He looks at his face in the mirror, pale, with his white-blond hair neatly combed. He was wearing dress robes, but no one else was. He thought of Potter’s face when he had turned up, dressed in his neat, traditional robes- he remembers the way his face flushed with surprise, then amusement, and then _want._

“You look nice,” Potter had said, with a smile. 

“Well,” Draco said, glancing at Potter’s well-fitting, cream-colored shirt and dark jeans that made him look edible. “I suppose, next to you, just about anything would. I hope that you got that shirt at half price.” 

Potter’s face dropped down to his shirt, which looked quite high quality once Draco got a good look at it, and his face had flushed with humiliation and sadness instead. 

Then- Ginny Weasley called from inside, and Potter let him in and took his coat. Draco didn’t realize that it had bothered him. 

The thing is, Draco knows he does this to Potter. Ever since they started sleeping together, Draco had been terrified to let anything slip. He didn’t want to appear desperate, or even worse, like one of Potter’s little fans. 

Potter _detested_ his fans. 

So, Draco instead mocked him, and teased him, and didn’t say a damn thing when they had sex because Draco knew he would say something incriminating about what he really thought. Potter, for his part, always let him in, so Draco assumed it was working. 

Instead, Draco had been hurting the other man. Draco is not an idiot, Potter will tolerate this for a bit if he feels that he wants to, but he’s a prideful man. He’ll never endure it for long. 

He hears a knock at the door, “hurry up! Some of us have to piss too!” 

Draco doesn’t immediately recognize the voice, but he does take a deep breath, wash his hands for the sake of it, and walk out the door. It’s Ginny Weasley. 

Draco hates her. She’s so clearly, practically perfect for Potter in every way, but she chose to run off and break the poor hero’s heart so she could shack up with Longbottom. Potter had been so distraught at losing her, Draco remembers, that the _Prophet_ actually managed to get several pictures of Potter crying while buying a tub of ice cream and _When Harry Met Sally._ It had been tragic to watch, which is actually why Draco had met back up with Potter in the first place. 

He had gotten sick of watching Potter buy terrible rosé and then get photographed by the press. So he sent a letter and attached a bottle of cabernet sauvignon. The letter simply read- 

_If you’re going to drink and cry, drink better booze._

_\- DM_

Potter responded by showing up to his house, yelling at him, then inviting him for a glass of wine. All around, it had been a hectic day. And it all started because Ms. Weasley decided she wanted some other man. Draco wouldn’t be in this miserable position with Potter if she had simply held up her end of the bargain and married the man after he won a bloody war. 

“Are you ever going to move?” Weasley said, her pretty face flushed with alcohol and a smirk. 

Draco takes a deep breath and knows that no one in the building will cut him any slack if he’s rude to her, so he smiles and says, “terribly sorry.” 

She huffs and pushes past him, and he decides to go for the door. He’ll send Potter an owl tomorrow saying that he felt under the weather. 

He heads for the door when Potter slides in front of him. He’s flushed and happy, and he looks good like this- when he’s surrounded by people who love him and by people he loves. 

“I’m sorry,” Draco says, startled at how weak his voice sounds. “I’m feeling a little under the weather.” 

Potter looks worried, “do you want some Pepper-Up Potion?” 

Draco shakes his head, “no, I think I would rather just go to sleep. I’ve been sick all day.” 

Potter, luckily, is just tipsy enough not to ask why he didn’t seem sick earlier. “I’ll owl you later, get some rest.” 

Then Potter lays a tender kiss on his cheek, and Draco melts, which means he instinctually snaps, “don’t be so clingy.” 

Potter’s eyes flash with hurt, but he pulls up a smile despite and gives a strained laugh, “of course. Sorry. I’ll… see you when I see you, I guess.” 

Draco wants to take it back, but he wants to run more, so he does. He walks out of the apartment, takes the muggle elevator down twenty-five floors, and then goes to the back, where they have set up a small apparition point in the building for the magical tenants. 

Draco goes home to the Manor, which couldn’t be more different from Potter’s modern penthouse apartment. His house elves, all technically free but all of whom refused to leave, vanish his coat immediately, and he feels his shoes replaced with fluffy slippers. 

He just needs to go to sleep. 

  
  
  


Of course, he can’t sleep. The stupid idiot Potter, with his big, dumb, hurt eyes and the fact that he thinks that Draco doesn’t _like_ him like some type of ridiculous teenage girl. 

Draco likes fucking Potter; why can’t that be enough for the stupid man? Draco loves the way his brown skin gleams in the moonlight and the way his bright eyes glow without his glasses. Draco especially loves that little, almost surprised, gasp he lets out when Draco first pushes inside. It’s a shockingly vulnerable, almost innocent sound, and it drives Draco absolutely mad. 

The thing is, Draco does like Potter. Very much. He loves him. Sometimes, after Potter has been so thoroughly fucked by Draco he literally collapses, Draco watches him sleep. He takes careful stock of the scars and the way Potter’s face looks so young when he’s asleep. On nights like those, Draco lets himself hold Potter all night, carefully stroking his hair and face while pressing gentle kisses to his hair and forehead. It’s embarrassingly tender, and Draco is lucky Potter has never noticed it. 

He even likes personality- Draco has come to depend on his quick, dry wit while watching muggle movies. He loves how relentless Potter is, how he’s tireless when he is interested in something. He likes how he’s kind and brave, and generous and-- 

Fuck. 

“Master should be going to his lover,” Buffy, a house-elf, says, appearing suddenly at this side. 

Draco jumps, “what are you doing here, Buffy?” 

“Master has been brooding for three hours,” Buffy says judgmentally. They may have stayed with him out of loyalty, but they’ve gotten snarkier. 

“Three hours…?”

Buffy nods, and he does notice that he’s been staring blankly ahead in his fluffy slippers and feels a bit stiff. 

“Why should I?”

Buffy gives him a severe look, “because he is making you happy. Be honest with him.”

Draco raises his stunned eyebrows, “what? How did you--?”

“House-elves always know.”

Draco glanced at his watch, “it’s four in the morning.” 

“Go!” Buffy said, “Buffy has been watching romantic comedies. Master Draco must go!” 

Draco doesn’t realize that Buffy has actually physically transported him to Potter’s doorstep until he gets there and realizes he’s still in his fuzzy slippers. 

The only benefit is the party is over. It was four in the morning, after all. Draco knocked on the door. 

He knocked again. 

And again. 

And again.

“Blimey,” Potter finally says, opening the door, shirtless and exhausted, “did you forget something?” 

“Yes,” Draco says.

Draco’s voice seems to shock Potter out of sleep. He covers his chest self-consciously as if he didn’t want Draco to see his body in the light, and Draco feels something twinge in him. 

“Well?” Potter asks, “what did you forget?” 

Draco steps forward and into Potter’s apartment; Potter closes the door behind him and impatiently looks at him. 

“I... “

“Draco,” Potter says, “it’s late, I’m tired, can you just tell me what you forgot?” 

“I like you,” Draco blurts out. Potter takes a surprised step back. Draco wants to hit himself. He should have just made up an excuse and left. 

“What?” Potter’s voice is shy, the way it rarely is. Draco used to think Potter wasn’t capable of being shy, but he’s been proven wrong. 

“I like you,” Draco says helplessly because he’s started now; he’s not even sure he’s making sense. “I like your hair, and your smile, and your laugh, and your stupid eyes. I am… I am… I really, really like you.” 

Harry stares at him for a second before his face splits into an unbelievably radiant smile. “I like you too.” 

Draco hadn’t realized how much he needed to hear that; his body sagged in relief. “I’m… I didn’t mean to make you think I didn’t. I just didn’t want you to think I was a fan, or a groupie, or something else detestable.” 

Harry laughs, “trust me; I would never think you are a groupie.” 

Draco reaches forward, and Harry finally drops his arms and lets Draco pull him into a tender kiss. Draco intends for it to be passionate and sexy, but the second he’s cradling Harry’s skull, gently cupping it with his hand, he can’t help but soften. 

Draco pulls Harry gently in the direction of his bedroom. It’s as coolly modern as the rest of the apartment, with a large bed in the center and a not-insignificant chrome and black amount. It always made Draco feel a bit like he is on another planet. 

Harry stops them, “what brought this on?”

Draco shifts uneasily on his feet, “I was walking past the kitchen when you were talking to Granger.”

“When I was talking to Hermione?” Harry asks, surprised. “When was I…? Oh! Oh.” His voice turns from confusion to embarrassment in record time, Draco can feel Harry’s cheeks heat up under his palm. 

“So, I left,” Draco says. 

“You’re not sick?” Harry replies, tilting his head, so his face is more firmly cupped by Draco’s hand.

Draco shakes his head, “no. I wasn’t even really going to come tonight, but Buffy--”

“The Vampire Slayer?” Harry asks. 

Draco looks at him in absolute bewilderment. “Why would my house-elf hunt vampires?” 

Harry laughs, “there is a muggle show, it’s called… Anyway, it doesn’t matter. What does your house-elf have to do with you being here?” 

“She got tired of me brooding and forced me just to come here and be honest with you.” 

“I’ll have to buy her a gift,” Harry says. His stupid, _gorgeous_ eyes light up at the thought of purchasing something for Draco’s house-elf, and Draco feels something crack inside him. 

He ducks back down to kiss him again, taking the time now to enjoy his firm, smooth skin. It’s so warm under Draco’s palms as he slowly slides his hands up and down. Harry melts against him, as if he had been hoping for tenderness for a long time and finally got it. 

Draco was astonished to find that Harry was already trembling against him, the gentle touches doing more to drive him out of his mind than any of Draco’s previous passionate grabs. Draco bites back a smile; it seems so fitting that Harry would respond better to gentle touches. After all, how many people have touched him gently? 

He pulls Harry towards the large bed, “I know it’s late, are you tired?” 

Harry shakes his head, that shy grin appearing on his face again. Draco can’t believe all this time he had denied himself this, Harry Potter allowing himself to be vulnerable with him. 

“Not tired,” Harry says, his eyes are on Draco’s face as if he’s never seen him before. “Wide awake.” 

Draco kisses him again because he can, rolling on top of Harry, who spreads his legs to accommodate him on instinct. 

“You are so lovely,” Draco says, and he’s surprised by how guttural it sounds. Harry is too, if the way his eyes widen is any indication. “You have the most amazing lips; they drive me to distraction.” 

Harry’s pretty lips split into a sunny smile, and Draco realizes this is what he’s been afraid of all along. Harry is fully capable of ruining Draco for all other men. 

“Well,” Harry says, canting his hips up in a not subtle _get a move on_ gesture. “I’m glad, but maybe there are other parts of my body that could be distracting too.”

Draco rolls his eyes fondly and gently kisses down Harry’s neck, taking time now to pay attention to all the tiny places that make him shiver and quake. He’s run his tongue along Harry’s neck enough times to know it’s sensitive, but usually, it is perfunctory. This time, Draco luxuriates in the feel of his skin under his lips, enjoying the scent of him. Draco licks the tiny beauty mark next to Harry’s adam’s apple, barely paying attention to the way that Harry hasn’t stopped shivering. 

He finally traces his way down to Harry’s bare chest and looks back up at him. Harry’s eyes are glazed over, and his lips are even fuller from the way that Harry’s been biting. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Draco says, kissing above Harry’s heart. His hands are still gently running up and down Harry’s flank. He kisses a circular burn shaped scar in the center of his chest. “And brave.”

Harry looks wholly overwhelmed, and Draco is pleased to see that it is another good look on him. 

“Draco,” Harry says, his voice is deep and breathier than Draco has ever heard it. “Draco, please.” 

Hearing Harry’s pleasure dipped voice plead for him would probably power Draco’s Patronus for years to come. But Draco feels like he’s finally letting himself enjoy the body that he’s had access to but kept holding himself back from fully enjoying. He leisurely licks at Harry’s nipples and is delighted to find that they are incredibly sensitive. 

“Please, Draco,” Harry is still pleading beneath him. His hands have twisted themselves into Draco’s fine, silvery hair. 

“Shh,” Draco says softly, gently using the blunt tips of his nails to trace shivery paths on Harry’s skin. He enjoys watching the goosebumps appear in his wake. “I promise, I’ll take good care of you, Harry.”

Harry makes a noise that makes Draco look up, and he’s surprised to see there Harry’s eyes look a bit wet. 

He moves back up immediately to press a kiss to Harry’s cheek, running his thumb across the cheekbone, he kissed. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” 

Draco is surprised that the pet name left his lips, but he’s more surprised at Harry’s vivid reaction to it. He watches as Harry’s face blooms with shocked lust and delight. Draco flatters himself for a moment and thinks that Harry even looks a bit dazzled. 

Harry shakes his head to refocus, “sorry, it’s just. No one has ever called me that before.” 

Draco refocuses his gaze on Harry, “you were tearing up before I said that, sweetheart. What’s wrong?” 

Harry bites his pretty lip again, “nothing, I just… I guess I didn’t realize how overwhelming it would be to be with someone who liked me.”

Draco’s heart clenches, and he can’t stop himself from kissing Harry again. “You are so absurdly wonderful. I could never talk when we fucked before. I was terrified I would say all of the things that I like about you.” 

Harry’s tiny smile reappears, “yeah? Like what?” 

“Like your eyes,” Draco says, kissing Harry’s eyelids. “Like they’re already a beautiful color, do they have to be that big, too? It’s unfair.” 

Draco feels Harry smile and presses down, “and your smile. It’s the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. It makes me want to see you smile all the time.” 

Draco has never had sex like this, he’s burnt through with lust, but he’s also filled with this urge to make it last. He’s not in any rush. He could spend hours just doing this.

Draco continues back to where he was on Harry’s torso, finally reaching his underwear, which he pulls off with a practiced motion. 

“You have a beautiful cock too, Harry,” Draco says, looking up to see Harry laugh in surprised embarrassment. 

“I’m pretty sure I don’t,” Harry says with a giggle.

Draco shakes his head, “well, you’re wrong, darling.” 

Harry’s breath hitches again at the pet name, and Draco smiles. He hadn’t realized how much sweeter it would be to see Harry fall apart like this. 

Draco lifts one of Harry’s muscular thighs until Harry’s leg rests on his shoulder as he leans down to lick. Harry’s cock is leaking precum like a river at this point, and he sees Harry’s hands twisting in the sheets next to them. On a whim, he reaches a hand out to hold, and Harry clutches back desperately. Draco continues bobbing his head, enjoying his skin’s clean taste and the weight on his tongue. Harry must have showered after the party. 

“Can I fuck you?” Draco says, pulling off Harry with a pop and gently pulling his hand out of Harry’s grip. 

Harry nods frantically, a bottle of lube flying out of the drawer before Draco can even ask, which makes him laugh. He slicks his fingers and presses one in slowly, watching Harry’s eyes roll back. Usually, Draco starts with two fingers and doesn’t give Harry much time to adjust. Draco had been scared that drawing it out would make Harry change his mind. 

Slowly he adds another, with much more lube than he usually uses, so Harry is dripping. He watches Harry’s body tense and clenches on the fingers inside him, trying to get more. 

“You take it so beautifully,” Draco says. His voice has never been lower. Harry’s thigh is shaking on his shoulder. 

“Please,” Harry begs again, this time with a sob in his voice. “Please, Draco, please fuck me.” 

“I will,” Draco promises, pressing a kiss to the inside of Harry’s thigh. Finally, he adds a third stretching and adding more lube. Draco thinks there probably won’t be any pain, with how thoroughly he’s preparing Harry. 

“Are you ready?” Draco asks, slowly pulling his fingers out and ignoring the tiny noise of discontent that Harry lets out. 

The look Harry gives him could probably sear through metal. “Are you mental? Yes, Draco, I am ready. And if you don’t fuck me right this minute--”

Draco doesn’t wait to see what threat Harry can come up with. Instead, he slicks himself up and pushes in gently. True to form, Harry lets out this little shocked gasp when he’s all the way inside. It’s so wet, and hot, and goddamn tight that Draco quietly loses his mind for a moment. 

“I love the noises you make,” Draco growls. Harry makes another as Draco pulls back slowly and rocks in again, this gorgeous hitching sigh that he doesn’t seem fully conscious of. 

Draco sits up a bit, hitching Harry’s legs more firmly around his waist, and reaches down to grab Harry’s hand. With one arm resting on the bed, keeping him upright, and held tight in Harry’s unrelenting grip, Draco thrusts into him. Firm and hard but slower than he usually does. Without thinking, Draco brings Harry’s hand to his lips and presses a sweet kiss to the back of it, where a nasty scar is etched into his sin. 

Harry lets out a desperate sob, and with his other hand, he pulls Draco down to kiss him. 

“I-- I didn’t know-- I didn’t know it was possible-- to feel like this,” Harry stutters out between thrusts. 

“What do you feel?” 

Harry’s eyes close as Draco thrusts hard again, “so fucking amazing.” 

Draco continues thrusting and reluctantly lets go of Harry’s hand so he can wrap it instead around Harry’s dick.

“Oh,” Harry says, and he sounds completely overcome. Draco wants to spend the rest of his life ripping these vulnerable noises from this invulnerable man. “Oh, Draco, please. I’m so close.” 

Draco nods, grabbing Harry’s hand and putting it on his dick so Draco can use both arms for stability. Harry gets the message and immediately begins to stroke himself, which is so sexy that Draco forgets for a moment that he’s supposed to be doing something. 

“Draco,” Harry _whines._ Merlin, Draco wishes he could bottle that noise and keep it forever.

Refocused, he uses both arms for leverage to thrust faster and harder, keeping a firm eye on Harry’s face, which is tilted back in pleasure. 

“Draco!” Harry yells, finally coming hard on his cock, clenching so tight that Draco comes out of sheer self-preservation. He’s never seen Harry come like this, long and hard, his lips forming a perfect “o.”

Draco gently pulls out, smiling at Harry’s low whine. Gently, he grabs his wand and casts a few cleaning charms on them and the bed. He glances at the clock on the table and sees that it’s now six in the morning. Harry looks exhausted now like he’s going to fully pass out any second. 

Harry clutches at his arm when Draco shifts to go to the kitchen to get some glasses for water. Now that he’s focused on something else, Draco realizes he’s parched. 

“Are you--” Harry starts, his eyes open and vulnerable before he guards himself. “Are you leaving?”

Draco usually does, but not this time. He shakes his head, “no, just to the kitchen. I’m thirsty.” 

Harry looks at him for a moment, then with swiftness he’s developed in Auror training, he pulls Draco back down and curls like a cat around him. With another hand, he summons his wand. 

“Accio water glasses,” Harry mutters, and Draco sits up with alarm. 

“Harry! The door!” Harry turns to the door and sees that it’s closed and quickly casts a spell to open the door just in time for two glasses to come racing towards them. 

Harry chuckles sheepishly, “thanks. I can’t believe I forgot about the door. You really must have fucked my brain out.” 

Draco laughs a little, accepting the glass and allowed Harry to fill it with water with a spell. “It was pretty spectacular.” 

Harry looks at him again, so warm and open that Draco feels like he’s been cracked in half. “It really was.”

When he’s finished his water and lays back down and Harry lays on his chest. Draco runs his fingers through Harry’s wild, soft curls. He feels more than hears Harry chuckle against him. 

“What?” Draco asks he’s ready to sleep the entire day away. 

“Nothing,” Harry says with a laugh. “It’s just, you _like_ me.” 

Draco rolls his eyes, but smiles, “yes, I do. Don’t go getting a bit head about it.” 

Harry beams, before laying down and closing his eyes, “wouldn’t dream of it.” 

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” Draco whispers into Harry’s hair. 

Harry tilts his eyes up from where he’s resting and gifts him another sweet, shy smile and says, “goodnight, Draco.” 

Draco can barely keep his eyes open, so with one last kiss to Harry’s forehead, he falls asleep with a smile on his face. 

**Author's Note:**

> SO self-indulgent. I know. 
> 
> Also- my hot take is that Harry would not move to the middle of nowhere. Especially if he's single and living by himself! Like, in the 3rd book when he's hanging out in Diagon Alley, he clearly loves and enjoys being around all that life. Maybe if he had kids he would want more outdoor space, but I think a young Harry Potter would definitely want to move to the middle of London. 
> 
> Anyway- what did you guys think? Comments bring me joy!


End file.
